


In Another's Arms

by welseykels



Series: Multi-Chapters [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Oral Sex, Smut, So much angst, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3764152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welseykels/pseuds/welseykels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An angsty AU for what could have come to pass if Mira Amell had decided to make her love, Alistair, king alongside Anora.  A companion piece to my canon story <i>In Your Arms</i> for Mira Amell and Warden!Alistair, a part of my <i>In These Arms</i> series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Annoucement

**Author's Note:**

> [Check out my writing masterpage on tumblr!](https://welseykels.tumblr.com/writing)

The Queen of Ferelden was pregnant.

Mira wanted to scream.  Wanted to cry.  Wanted to beat her fists into something hard until she couldn’t feel anything but the pain of blood oozing out of her knuckles.  

No, she wished she was numb.

As much as she had wanted to and how close she came to doing it, she would have risked being executed for treason if she had used a fire spell to scorch the smug look right off of Anora’s face when the announcement was made. She had wanted to.  Oh Maker, how she had wanted to.  Facing execution hadn’t seemed so frightening in that moment.  But it was Alistair’s expression that kept her from unleashing every spell she could think of there in the throne room.  His face was the only one that mirrored hers.  Theirs the only two faces that fell in devastation rather than raised up in joy at the news.  

Of course Anora had wanted to announce her pregnancy publicly, in front of all the local banns and teryns.   Anora had wanted her husband’s lover to be in the room to see the joy and glee on the faces of Ferelden court as the Theirin line was secured.  Mira had tolerated the woman for almost ten years, had even liked her in the beginning, but now, now there was fury and hate in her heart for her.  But Mira hated herself most of all for putting Alistair on the throne in the first place.

How could Alistair have kept the pregnancy from her?  Why hadn’t he told her when they woke that morning in the privacy of his chambers?  His chambers, she almost laughed at the thought now.  It seemed that still hadn’t hindered the Theirin bloodline from continuing.   No one but Mira and a handful of servants knew that the King and Queen had separate quarters, and that the King shared his with his arcane advisor.

An arcane advisor.  That was how he had kept her close after she’d given up being the Warden-Commander of Ferelden.  She had not left the Order peacefully, but Alistair and Mira were allowed certain… concessions for ending the fifth blight.  

She knew it would not benefit anyone if she just stormed out of the great hall.  It would cause more tongues to wag than she cared.  She waited while the King and Queen began mingling through the crowd, each second that she remained in the room utter torture.  She wanted to be away, away from all the smiling faces, all the happiness.  Away so that she couldn’t see all the congratulations and slaps on the back that Alistair received.   She finally saw her chance to slip away when Alistair turned his back to her.  She slipped from the dias and almost ran down the hall to the private quarters that she rarely used, attempting to hold back her tears until she was behind the locked door of her small chambers, far away from the royal family’s quarters.  That too had been Anora’s doing.  

She slipped the lock in place, and turned and sunk down the door, her body shaking.  She couldn’t hold in the tears any longer, her breath coming out in hiccups.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, her mind circling around when Alistair and Anora could have conceived.  Why hadn’t he told her?  As far as she knew, they had only consummated their marriage once, at the bedding ceremony after their wedding.  Alistair had been horrified by the whole idea.  But it had been expected of him.  It hadn’t helped, he had said, when Anora had called him Cailan.  It only confirmed his belief that he was just a poor substitute for his brother for her.  Alistair had been devastated by the thought of having to share himself with another woman again that wasn’t Mira.  But they had worked through it, it had been a necessary evil, just like Morrigan’s night with him had been.  

Hadn’t it been?  Now she wasn’t so sure.  It had been nine years since then, for Anora to be pregnant…

A soft knock fell on the door behind her.

She tried to steady her voice as she asked who it was, but failed miserably.

“It’s me.  Mira, please open the door.”  His voice was broken, a sob hitching his words halfway through.

“No.”

“Mira, please.  Don’t make me beg.”

With shaking hands she stood and unlocked the door.  She opened it fractionally, standing in the space so that he couldn’t enter.  His eyes were red and she could see fresh tracks of tears down his cheeks.

“When?”

“Two months ago.”

Mira knew she had no right to be angry, Anora was his wife for Andraste’s sake.  But she felt foolish.  Alistair had always claimed that Mira would be the last woman he ever took to his bed.  The only woman in his heart.  She wondered if he still believed that.  She wasn’t sure she did anymore.

“Why?”

“Let me in the room.  I shouldn’t say this out in the hall.  You don’t deserve that.”

“I don’t deserve a great many things.”

“Mira…”

She stepped aside until he was in the room, shutting the door behind him.  He sat down on the edge of her bed, fresh tears falling down his face.

“Remember when Anora and I went for peace talks with Orlais at the behest of the Inquisition?”

Mira didn’t speak.

“I have no good reason as to why it happened.  Frankly, I was terrified.  The Orlesians kept bringing up that I had no heir.  What happens when I die, Mira, when the calling comes for me, the real one this time, if I don’t have an heir?”  His face lowered into his hands.  “I’m king because of a succession crisis.  I don’t want to cause another one, not after all that’s happened.”  

“Did you initiate it?”  She had no right to be mad, she knew that, and she almost didn’t recognize the cool tone as her own.

“It was - it was mutual, I think.  We had to share chambers, had to keep up appearances, and it just - it just happened.”

She didn’t move from her spot by the door, watching as his shoulders shook as he cried.  Maker, she wanted to hold him, but her stubborn pride kept her rooted where she was.

“Why did you make me marry her?”

It was his turn to ask the questions.  Ones he had asked before, but she’d never quite had the right words to answer them.

She didn’t trust her own voice, but she managed to force a shaky reply out of her throat.  “She knew how to rule.  We needed her.”

“I wish we hadn’t needed her.  I wish - I wish you were my queen.”

“We both know that Ferelden would have never let a mage sit on the throne.”

“I don’t care.  I don’t care.”  His voice quivered, but the anger started to boil in his veins, his frustration punctuating each word.  “Why should I have to rule a country that won’t let me openly love you?”

“Because that’s the way things had to be if you were King.”  Her tone matching his.

“Then why did you make me king? I never wanted to be king. You knew that.  We could have stayed together with the Wardens.  Why Mira, why?”  He bellowed, unable to contain himself any longer.

She answered in a scream, "I made you king because Ferelden needed a good man on the throne." And then after several moments of silence between them, she spoke much quieter. “I wish I hadn’t.  I wish I’d been selfish for once in my life and kept you.”  And then barely a whisper.  “I love you, Alistair."

The rage on his face softened to a look full of sorrow. If only she had kept him with her in the grey wardens. Why had she been so foolish and selfless. Anora was a capable leader, a great one in fact. But, but Alistair was a good man who would care deeply about the people. Ferelden needed a kind ruler to heal after the Blight. And in her naive mind, she thought that giving Alistair to Ferelden was the answer. How wrong she had been. Ferelden would have been fine with Anora. She and Alistair could have been happy. They could have married. No one would care if a Mage wed a common man. They could have even run away from the wardens, living in a cabin in the Brecilian Forest, away from everyone and everything. They had done enough for Thedas, they deserved whatever peace they could get before their Callings came for them. Relying on only each other. They could have been happy. Blissfully happy.

But instead Mira had chosen this life for them. A bitter life full of heartache and sacrifice.

Damn her foolish choices.

Before she'd even realized she'd moved across the room to him, she was in his arms.  His lips were on her and they stained each other's faces with their tears.

His hands fumbled for the ties of her dress, while hers worked at the clasps of his mantle.

The light fabric slipped down her shoulders, falling down to catch at her waist.  Her breasts were bare before him and he was nuzzling the soft flesh by the pulse in her neck.  Her hands impatiently shoving the mantle off his shoulders, moving down to work at the ties of his trousers.  His mouth moved to take one of the hardening nubs into his mouth, a moan escaping her mouth in the process.  

His hands wound their way around her waist, shoving the heavy skirts down to the floor, her small clothes quickly following.  His hands left her body to yank off the formal shirt he wore, and the tunic he wore beneath.  His mouth returning to hers as she pushed the pants from his hips.  She gasped as his mouth travelled to her ear to nibble at the lobe as he kicked off his boots and the fabric that pooled around them.

They stood bare in front of one another for a moment, before he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his hips as he carried her towards the canopied bed.  He whispered soft _I love you’s_ into her ear as he gently laid her down.  His mouth moved faster down her body, his hand moving to the wet spot between her thighs.  She gasped as his strong fingers found the bundle of nerves that he knew all too well.  

“ _Alistair._ ”

His hand lowered down her slit, as his mouth moved to the place his fingers had vacated.  She knew this dance well, knew that he wanted to her feel how much he loved her.  But she needed him, she needed him on her and inside her. She needed that now.  

Her hands grasped his face and pulled his mouth back up to hers.  Her tongue finding his, greedily exploring the mouth of the man she loved.  The man she loved more than anything else.  A man that she could not bear to see as another woman's husband any longer.  A hand left his face and traveled down to grasp his shaft.  A groan rumbled in his chest as she guided him towards her entrance.

He whispered sweet words, of how much he loved her - of how much he would always love her, as he slowly slid inside her.

Maker, she always wanted this.  Always wanted him.  But deep down, she knew staying would only hurt her more.  How could she stay and watch Alistair raise a child that he would never see grown?  Another woman's child?  She'd already dealt with these feelings once, and after all she'd been through, after all they'd been through, she didn't think she had the strength to do it again.  How could she stay when Anora had what she wanted from him?  See the smug looks Anora would give her as her belly grew with child?  She wanted to stay, stay in his arms forever, every thrust he made inside her making her decision that much harder.  She wished this moment didn’t have to end.  That outside her door nothing else existed.  

But the world outside existed.  Alistair and Anora were having a child.  The Theirin line would continue.  

No one at court would miss an arcane advisor.  Hopefully even Alistair would forget her in time.  It hurt too much to stay.  She should have never agreed to stay after he became King.  She should have left him all those years ago.  It would have hurt, but it would have been easier back then to leave.  Maker, she shouldn’t have listened to Morrigan in the first place.  She should have faced the archdemon and died like fate had intended.  

She had made up her mind.

She shifted them until she was straddling his thighs, riding him as they built towards their peaks.  Her lips trailing across his throat as he panted her name.  She whispered “I’m sorry” and "I love you" over and over as she came around him.  Leaving him to think that she was apologizing for everything she had said after the announcement.  

He did not know that she was sorry for the fact that he would wake up in the morning to find her gone from the bed and for all the mornings to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Mira overreact? Probably. But she always was the headstrong impulsive sort.


	2. The Letter

The horse’s hoof beats almost drowned out her sobs as she left the front gates of Denerim in the middle of the night. She needed to put as much distance between herself and Alistair before he awoke to find her gone. To roll over and find a note on her side of the bed instead of her.

_Alistair,_

_I love you, I love you more than life itself. Nothing will ever change that. But I can’t do this anymore. Not when she can give you the things I can't. I shouldn't interfere in your life any longer, a mage shouldn’t play at court._

_Please don’t follow._

And below, because in her hesitation, she thought it sounded like she was off to head to the Deep Roads and she did not want him to head to Orzammar in grief, thinking that she had went without him; they had always planned to go together when the time came. Her note continued, the paper stained by her tears.

_I am off to Skyhold to join the Inquisition. Maybe I can be of more use there than I am in Denerim._

_With all my love, with all my heart, because it is forever and only yours,_  
_Mira_

It would break his heart when he woke up. She couldn’t think of that. If she did, she would turn around and ride the horse right back to the palace and run back into his arms. She couldn’t do that. She had to be strong. If she stayed, their strained affair would only continue until they loathed each other, their love a parasite on them and the Ferelden court. All because she was born a mage. Maker forbid a mage become Queen. She could be the Hero of Ferelden, but she couldn't be its Queen.

 _Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him._ Fuck the Maker and his chant.

The raven she had sent would be with Leliana soon. Hopefully the Inquisition would take her. If they wouldn’t, she didn’t know where to go.

Nathaniel had told her that she would always be welcome at the Vigil, once she’d passed her title onto him, but returning there was not the solution. Returning to the Grey Wardens would only remind her of the one Warden she had left behind. Weisshaupt posed the same problem.

The Inquisition would be a place to start anew.

She hoped.

* * *

 

No.

Maker, please, no.

When he first awoke and found that he was alone, he wasn’t concerned. His arm had blindly searched for her across the bed, as he had before. Sometimes she woke before him, he'd find her sitting at the desk across from the room, reading letters from the Vigil. She may have given up her title as Warden-Commander, but she'd never truly given up on the Wardens. He started to panic, however, when his hand touched a sheet of parchment. His eyes flew open and he sat up in the bed as his hand closed around it.

She'd never left him a note before. He hoped it would be some sort of flirty message telling him where to find her, but his heart knew different considering the night before. He almost didn't believe the words as he read, but he knew she was truly gone when he saw what had rested on the pillow beside her letter.

Her locket.

The locket that he'd first seen the first night they'd spent together all those years ago. When she'd laid her breasts bare to him for the very first time, he'd seen what hung between them. There, enclosed in glass and a frost spell, was the rose he'd given her weeks before.

Maker, he'd thought he'd loved her then. He'd told her once that he did, days before, moments after she had calmed him down after the visit with Goldanna. She'd reassured him that she cared for him when he'd been left with the belief that no one did. Nothing could have prepared him for the love that swept through him at the sight of his rose over her heart. And now, it was here, taking her place on the bed.

He didn't remember when he had started crying, but hot tears slid down his face, adding more stains to the paper.

Grabbing the locket in his hand, he hastily dressed in his scattered clothing from the night before. He would head to the stables, saddle his horse, and find her. He would bring her back. If she wouldn't return with him, they could run away together, something they should have done immediately after killing the archdemon.

He opened the door of Mira's chambers and ran straight into Eamon.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Alistair didn't want to listen to the distaste in the elder man's voice, but he knew that Eamon had always hated his relationship with Mira. Andraste's ass, she'd saved his life, saved his son from possession with the help of the circle mages, and helped defend his arling, and yet the man still held a grudge with her all because she was a mage who loved the King. A mage that the King loved in return.

"She's gone. I have to go-"

"You'll do no such thing. Your place is here. With your people. _With your Queen_."

"You don't understand, I love her, I have to-"

"She has made her choice. I suggest you let her make it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long delay on this chapter, I was busy writing the first four chapters of it's companion piece, In Your Arms, which can be found here on my ao3 account. 
> 
> The next pairing will be added next chapter.


End file.
